


Somebody Else's Sky

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dark Rey, F/M, Humiliation, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6893209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren isn't technically her prisoner. If he was her captive, this would be wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody Else's Sky

He's not her prisoner. Not exactly. If her was her prisoner, this would be a terrible breach of her power and responsibility. Rey tells herself it's not. Abusing a prisoner is something he would do, something he has done, and she would be like him. He's not in her custody. This is different.

How different is a matter of point of view. Two days ago, Kylo Ren turned himself in to her, his mind twitching and buzzing from his uncle's mental attack. The fight left Luke in a coma Rey's terrified he won't wake from, and it also loosened whatever grip has been holding Ren in thrall to Snoke's whims for his entire adult life. Ren is frightened, jumping at ghosts, and arguing with thin air. Rey hasn't seen any real ghosts in the cramped tents they've set up here, hiding from the First Order search parties zooming across this world. The voices are all in his head.

Luke is dying, and Ren is mad, and Rey is consumed with bitterness as she grabs his chin to gaze up at her.

"This is all your fault," she tells him. Unable to stop herself, she strikes him, feeling the good impact of her hand against his face. He wakes from his babbling, eyes clear and meeting hers for the first time in hours.

His voice is hollow. "Yes."

"You wanted to feel special. You wanted to be better than everyone else. You're nothing. You are worthless." Her own words drip out of her like the poison in her heart that she's nursed since the day they met. He's invaded her most intimate thoughts, and he's hurt her friends, and he's killed people she cared for, and now she has him here. She can do anything to him, and he won't object, won't fight. She can drill inside his mind if she chooses, ripping and tearing with the same lack of grace he's done so often.

She bends down to his face. "Do you know, Luke and the General, they both think you weren't really responsible for the things you did. They said it was your master, getting into your brain and twisting you. They said you were under his control." She tips her face closer, so close they could kiss if she would ever consider such a terrible thing. "But you and I know better, don't we? Snoke gave you permission, but your sins were all your own."

He stares at her, although she's not sure his eyes are seeing her face. She hopes he's seeing the faces of all his victims, especially those whose faces he never bothered looking at before killing them.

Anger eats at her.

Rey stands. Luke is asleep, although not really asleep, in the next tent. She ought to bind Ren and leave him here while she finds her own small tent. She should meditate. She should sleep.

In her tent, Rey has her own private bag, with her clothes and the personal items she keeps on hand. Buried beneath cleanser and her sanitary items, beside the mini medkit with her anticonception drug, she has something she packs with her because leaving it to be found by someone back on the base is simply too much to consider. A gift, from two female Resistance pilots who've taken Rey under their wing.

"Less trouble than a boyfriend," said one.

"We can find you one that vibrates if you're interested," said the other.

"Thank you," said Rey, because she was learning politeness. Her own fingers have always been sufficient for the task, but the thought was appreciated.

She hasn't used the spun-plast phallus for its intended purpose. One might think it a virgin, something Rey herself hasn't been in some time.

If she lets herself consider this, she'll stop. She doesn't let herself think.

Rey brings out the phallus into the tent where Ren still half-crouches on the ground. She knows she should tie him down. It won't stop him from using the Force but it will stop him from using his hands. For the moment, she plays with the phallus in her hands where he can watch, moving it from side to side, allowing him a good view of the beige, ridged cylinder with the smooth, bulbous head. She's seen the genitals of a number of species. This one tries and fails to mimic a human male, but she can see from the way his eyes follow her hands that he understands nonetheless.

"All of this is your fault," she says, in recrimination and in private justification. "You won't be tried. You won't be imprisoned. You'll be considered too valuable. You'll be used for your information, and you'll be protected because of your family." She knows. Justice will pass its hand over this pitiful excuse for a living being, until a survivor of one of his rampages puts a blaster bolt through his head.

The galaxy showed its unfairness to Rey long ago. She holds no surprise now.

"I won't kill you. I should, and have done, but people I care about have lost too much to bring you back alive."

She brings the phallus to him. "Open."

At last, there's a spark of defiance. He's not so far gone that he's unaware. Good. Her conscience would ache her later if he wasn't capable of understanding what's about to happen. "This is all you've got?" he asks, a hint of the same sneer she's used to. His master had him under some spell. He's still the same person either way.

"This is all you're getting. My first instinct was to use your own lightsaber."

Now there's fear on his face, flashed and hidden. She marks it down, as well as the phantom thought that this is not the first time he's been threatened, and the threat wasn't idle the last time, either. Did some First Order flunky get the best of him? One of his own Knights? Or has his craven master coerced him into dropping his own trousers, pushed Ren into slicking up his own weapon, and made him slowly drive it into himself?

Rey's not sure. Part of her, part that is growing day by day, part that she knows Luke is worried about when he sees it in her, that part hopes it happened just as she imagined, and that Kylo Ren wept the whole time.

His mouth opens, just enough. She shoves the phallus between his lips, pushing hard to make him gag as her other hand grabs his thick hair. He can't pull away. He can fight her. She feels his body tensing. His Force abilities are scattered, useless, but he's strong.

The muscles go slack. His jaw drops. Rey feels only the resistance of the back of his throat as she pushes. If this is surrender so soon, she's not sure it's worth continuing.

She yanks his head back and pulls out her toy, bring it to her face to examine. "You'll want it wetter than this." She shoves him away. "Disrobe."

He complies, though she can see the alertness growing in his eyes. His mind is nowhere near capable of reaching hers now, and she has no desire to go poking around to see how clear he is. She's seen inside there enough.

When Ren is completely naked, Rey pauses in her own madness. She can recognize that's what is going on. He may not be her prisoner, but he's trembling. She can see every scar he's earned over his petty life. She's given him several. Others look quite old. Finn has been a soldier from his earliest childhood, and in a way, so has this man, training for battle since he was a small boy named Ben. There's a holo Luke keeps that he doesn't know Rey found, a child who even then was being taught to fight.

"You have cost the people who love you everything." It's sufficient to reignite her rage. "Kneel."

The ground is hard, and their tents have no floors to protect them. She hopes the hard-packed dirt digs into his knees as she forces the phallus back into his mouth. "You will want more spit." She's satisfied to see the drool growing at the sides of his mouth, to hear his labored breaths.

She shoves him to the ground, where he catches himself hard on his elbows. Rey isn't completely sure of herself on this. She had a lover, although the word hardly applies, who did this to her. She remembers the pain. She hopes Ren feels it as she places the thick head against his tight opening, and his gasp tells her he does.

Tearing now would ruin her plan. She takes her time, pushing the phallus slowly into his body as he shakes. Ren lets out his breath, a sound at the edge of it, not a whine, not a moan.

"Does it hurt?" She hopes it hurts. She hopes he feels the same aching stretch she did, the same vulnerable fear. Rey thrusts a few times, tugging hard. "I asked you a question."

"It hurts," he says, tight-voiced. She sees his cock filling with his excitement. Experimentally, she shoves her phallus into him harder, and he yelps in a sound that isn't entirely pain.

"You're getting off on this?" She takes up a rhythm, pounding into him, letting her anger move her arm. Outside of herself, she can almost feel another Rey standing there in growing horror. _You don't rape prisoners._ He's not her prisoner, though. If he was, this would be wrong.

"No." He's shaking his head, and she can see the wet tracks on his face. Just as she pictured. The image, and the power, send a heady rush to her own privates. With her free hand, she slaps his cock and he howls.

"This isn't for you."

He turns his head back to her, and she can't escape that accusing gaze. If it's not for him, then it's for her, and she's taking pleasure in causing him agony. "How different are we? You've said, but I keep forgetting." She's astonished he can maintain even that level of calm as she drives in deep.

She lets go of the toy, leaving it stuck in him, hanging out like an obscene tail. He's still hard. His cock dangles into the air ready to rub against anything he's allowed to touch. She won't let him.

Rey moves to stand in front of him. With a careful hand, she unfastens her own trousers and pulls them down. His eyes fix on her trimmed dark curls. He can see exactly where her two fingers slide. She crooks them up in the way she knows from long practice, rubbing at her own vulva, forcing him to watch.

Kylo Ren licks his lips. He wants to join in. She will never, ever allow him, as much as she could use that nimble tongue and those lush lips right now. She stares at his mouth as he stares at her, and it's only a matter of seconds. Rey doesn't need the help of an artificial phallus or an enemy's mouth to help her get off.

The flush of her climax shoots through her spine, through her knees, and she grabs him then, but only to steady herself. He nuzzles in, aiming for a taste of her. She pushes him away, slapping him again.

"No."

Wet, a little hazy in her post-orgasmic state, Rey stumbles behind him. She pulls out the phallus. She ought to make him clean it with his mouth. Instead, she drops it. He's still hard, still wanting, still broken and waiting for her. Part of her whispers she can do that. She can shove him to the ground and ride him. Part of her wants to. This is revenge, not justice, and while the latter would shrink away from that last impropriety, the former only cares about making herself feel better.

"Finish yourself. You're going to regardless."

As though he was only waiting for permission, he grabs for his own cock. Rey's obviously not the only one long used to taking care of things alone. She watches him, and the anger isn't slaked. She picks up the phallus again. It's dirty from where it fell. Good.

He cries out as she inserts it again, but he doesn't stop. "Next time," she tells him, pushing in and out, "I'll use the lightsaber, just as I said. You're stretching so tight now. Something thicker and rougher," she turns the phallus in a vicious twist, "that'll make you bleed."

He almost barks out his cry as he comes, befouling the dirt beneath himself with his sticky ejaculate. Rey pulls out the phallus again and sets it aside. She reaches for his face and studies him. Ren is a little shocky beneath the quick bliss. She's crushing what was left of his self-composure after the mental blows he's already endured. If she keeps this up, ties him down and pushes him through this again and again, she may crumble Kylo Ren entirely to dust, leaving only the question of what she intends to rebuild from the wreckage.

He made a perfect servant for Snoke, says her anger.

He could make a good ally for the Resistance, says her conscience.

Her lust has its own thoughts on the matter, which she ignores.

The only voice in her own head that matters is Rey's own. She glances down at the mess. "Clean that up." He reaches for his undershirt, but she bats his hand away. "You have a mouth. You wanted to use it before."

He doesn't resist with more than his eyes before he crawls around, bends down, and with a shudder, begins lapping up his own come from the dirty ground.

"Good boy," Rey says, and watches him close his eyes in a brief jolt of happiness.

A servant, her anger reminds her. A powerful servant. He just needs molding, and hers is the perfect hand to shape him.

First, she will have to break him. "Come here," she says, and he hesitates. Rey grabs him by his hair and yanks him closer. "I said come here."

Another spark goes through his eyes. The foul creature is still there. Rey finds she enjoys the thought of crushing the darkness out of him entirely.

It doesn't occur to her at the moment that darkness always finds another place to go, and by the time she does understand, it will be far too late to stop.


End file.
